Have you ever met an OUFO? 
Do you know where OUFO's go? 

An Outlandishly Unforseenly Fascinatingly Objectly . . . .
with a whispery, whizzery, glimmery soft glow. 

Not a rocket, not a plane, not a blippity streak in a thinderstorm rain. 
Not a zeppeliny, zoppery, moonbeamy mule or a snorkly, bubbly, buzzingly bee floating beezarly through the milky pool stars.

An OUFO is odd in the loveliest ways.
It does not just zoom from tomorrow to today.

It slips between places too squigly to go
the hush between hushes where hushberries grow.

It drifts through the almost, the maybe, the might
the folding in the morning, the seam in the night.

It flutters through flickers and tippity bends,
where a beginning half starts and a middle half ends.